


Something Just Like This

by HanaHanaNoMi



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper/Archie Andrews implied, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-01 19:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10198358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaHanaNoMi/pseuds/HanaHanaNoMi
Summary: Jason's murder forced a quiet town out of the past and into the present. It was unfortunate for Riverdale's outsiders that old flames weren't subjected to similar treatment.No longer canon after episode 1x06, Jason's murder is solved, and Archie and Betty are finally an item. For the other half of the core four, the world is much more complicated.Ratings set for future chapters.





	1. Woman Up

“Are you sure you want to go to school today, mija?” Her mother had asked just as she slipped her right foot into her Louboutin heel. “A mental health day would be just fine, if you like. I’m happy to call your principal and make up an excuse.”

“I’m not going to run from it, mom. Staying home watching _Dr. Phil_ isn’t going to make it disappear.”

“I just worry about you, Veronica. Whether it’s Nightingale or Riverdale, people talk.”

People talking about her was precisely what Veronica Lodge had wanted, six months ago. An air of mystery with as little of her father’s current financial and legal entanglements involved. A woman who exuded confidence, attitude, beauty. Someone who, despite the fact she deserved a whole floor of the Dakota had resigned to a three bedroom apartment in downtown Riverdale, had it all.

But she didn’t have it all. That had been clear the moment she stepped out of the car. She’d kept her large, black sunglasses even as she entered the school but the murmurs persisted, lingering as she passed like an echo through a canyon.

“So he finally chose Betty.”

“I guess it makes sense. They’ve known each other forever, what chance did Veronica have?”

 “Andrews is fucking blind, choosing the goody two-shoes over Veronica.”

 “I bet he just got bored fucking her. When you look that easy, can you blame him for wanting something less trashy?”

 “It’s not like she belongs here anyway. Those two always deserved to be together.”

 In Manhattan, this would never have happened. Splitting from a guy, sure. But the peanut gallery wouldn’t have dared to comment on it, at least within earshot. In the scope of five minutes, the old Veronica Lodge would have destroyed the girl choosing to mock her misfortune, and she would have gotten away with it. But in Riverdale, she had no power. It had been liberating at first, now she wished she hadn’t vowed to give up on the old Veronica.

 “You look so much better than I would be right now. Those are real Louboutins, right?”

 Her berry lips curled into a smirk before a chuckle escaped them. She could rely on Kevin Keller to begin the day on the right note.

 “Kev, do I look like I wear cheap knockoffs? I picked them up in Paris two years ago, naturally.” Veronica rummaged through her locker for her trigonometry textbook. While many groaned at having math first period, it offered her a bit of relief. Math, unlike Archie Andrews, made sense.

 “Between you and Cheryl, Riverdale has gotten much more fashionable. I’m grateful.” Kevin smiled to her, taking her book before she could stuff it into her tote, “And besides, you won’t be alone for too long.”

 Veronica felt him look her up and down and grimaced, from the aforementioned heels to the crop top and pencil skirt set she’d chosen for the day, both complete with back zippers. “Kevin, ew. Aren’t you supposed to be gay?”

 “Gay, straight, bi. No matter the orientation, Ronnie, you stand out. But I’d much rather be your friend. Who else am I supposed to have Audrey marathons with?”

 That was something to look forward to. Kevin seemed to be the only one who appreciated silver screen starlets and happy endings in black and white. One of their first deep conversations had been who had dressed Audrey Hepburn better: Edith Head or Hubert de Givenchy. When Kevin offered to carry her book and his arm, Veronica didn’t hesitate. This time, she gave a genuine smile for the first time in days as they walked down the hallway.

 “That sounds like the best idea. A marathon and macarons would be fantastic this weekend.”

 “Ronnie, I wouldn’t regulate your Saturday nights to Netflix just yet. I happen to know that Reggie’s having a party on Saturday. Betty and Archie won’t be there.”

 Veronica raised her eyebrow. “When did you become besties with the dudebros?”

 “When he asked me to invite you, because he thought if he did it himself you’d say no. And besides, it turned into a good deal for me too,” Kevin grinned as they stopped in front of the classroom, “He agreed to lay off the homosexual slurs and I’m bringing Joaquin.”

 Initially, Veronica had balked at the idea of Kevin dating a gang member from the bad side of town. She didn’t want her mother or Kevin mixed up with the thugs who’d made the drive in their home, but after some persuading, she’d agreed to hang out with Kevin and Joaquin at Pop’s, for movie nights, sushi dates. Underneath the gruff exterior, Joaquin’s sense of humor was sharp and he loved dancing more than petty theft. With Veronica’s years of ballet and ballroom behind her, they’d had more to bond over than previously thought. But what truly mattered was Kevin’s smile when Joaquin slid into the booth beside him at Pop’s, when they fought over who would order the chocolate shake (Kevin would concede and order strawberry, while sneaking as many sips from his boyfriend’s drink as he could get away with), and how even when they fought they knew when to put their differences aside.

 It was refreshing to see a proper functioning relationship, though a stinging reminder of her own singledom.

 “Joaquin’s making his Riverdale High party debut? A true relationship milestone, Keller.”

 “Yeah, so even if everyone else is shitty, you can always hang out with us.”

“Oh look, she’s gone back to being a fag hag,” Cheryl’s voice was sugar sweet as Veronica and Kevin slid into their seats, “that’s what Veronica Lodge is good at, I suppose. Considering she couldn’t even keep Archie-”

 “Shut it, Cheryl Bombshell,” Veronica hissed. Cheryl smirked but fell silent. She’d gotten what she wanted: a rise out of Veronica, and proof that she was the queen of Riverdale High. Veronica sunk lower in her seat and tried to ignore the whispers and the irritating sound of Jughead’s computer keyboard. It was less like typing, more like mashing, a train of thought that someone was desperate to hold onto.

 

* * *

 

“Are you mad? At me?”

 She’d sunk deep into her lunge when Betty finally approached her at Vixens practice. For the first time that day, Veronica’s mind had gone blissfully blank during their warm up, focusing on keeping her breathing steady as Cheryl called out the next exercise.

 “Betty,” Veronica sighed, straightening herself before facing her friend. Her best friend at this rate, and one Veronica had no intention of losing. “I’m not mad at you. Or him. It just...is.”

 Her attempt at comforting Betty seemed to be fruitless, as her blue eyes stayed sad, full of worry, near tears. Comfort was new to Veronica.

 “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ronnie. I just-it just happened.”

 Dropping your cell phone ‘just happened’. Sleeping through your alarm ‘just happened’. Working on homework with your best friend’s boyfriend, turning a study session into a confessional didn’t ‘just happen’. But it had, to Archie becoming so quiet, so distant, so uncomfortable that when Veronica had called him on it in the parking lot at Pop’s, he was clear in his feelings for her for the first time. Unfortunately, it was to say that he couldn’t, in good faith, date her anymore. He loved someone else.

 Veronica bit her tongue. It seemed the easiest way to keep her mouth at bay. Unlike those she used to know, Betty wasn’t vindictive and she had no agenda. In fact, Betty was probably the most honest person she knew.

 “Look, I want to believe our friendship is strong enough that boys, families, and school isn’t enough to break us. But admittedly, it’s hard to see you two together right now.” Speaking her mind at that moment made Veronica feel sick, as showing vulnerability had never turned out well. She could hear Cheryl calling her name, asking her what was more important to her than the Vixens. Frankly, she didn’t care.

 “That’s understandable. But we’ll still have time for us, Ronnie, okay?” Betty smiled weakly, setting a hand on her shoulder and shooting a dirty look at the Vixens captain. “We don’t have to change.”

 Betty always hoped for the best. Her optimism, her incessant good mood (at least after the town murder had been solved), her genuine smile. Sure, the medication probably helped, but Betty had come out of the last six months stronger, brighter, ready to take on her family and her world. There was no reason why everyone in Riverdale wouldn’t adore her. Jughead had climbed through her bedroom window to kiss her (or so Veronica had heard from Betty), Archie wrote a song inspired by his next door neighbor, and even Reggie tried (unsuccessfully) to give her a ride in his Porsche.

 In short, Betty’s endearing belief in the good of others was genuine, while hers always turned to some sort of cynicism. Veronica may have grown up with the throne on Central Park West, but in Riverdale, Betty was the princess.

 “Sure. Yeah, of course. Like when he’s busy working for his Dad. We’ll do girl’s nights, or something.”

 “Or something!” Betty repeated, “That sounds great Ronnie, and I’m just...just really glad this’ll work out.”

 “Me too.” And she sincerely did. There was a feeling Veronica had previously thought only existed in 80s and 90s teen movies, of girls sitting cross-legged on four poster beds pouring their hearts out to one another as they poured over magazines and made homemade face masks (The difference between a $500 and a $10 facial, as far as Veronica could tell, was citrus-infused water from the Swiss Alps and a German masseuse named Natasha fawning over her). But in Riverdale, that was an enjoyable night for Betty Cooper whenever her mother felt lenient enough to have Veronica stay over. She was less captivated than Kevin when Veronica pointed out celebrities she’d seen at New York premieres and galas and instead, after weeks of diverting the conversations away from her new friend’s prestige, had asked if the life she’d left behind was as glamorous as the media portrayed it, if she regretted moving to Riverdale, if she wished she’d had her old life and her old friends back. Veronica had heard the question many times before: in Chicago, in Las Vegas, in London, in Seoul. Betty was just the first to ask without any sort of agenda, simply pure curiosity.

 “It’s too much work to break in a new friend, Bets. After all, who else can handle my mediocre karaoke skills?” Veronica smirked, easing her best friend’s mind that afternoon the same way she had months ago, sprawled on Betty’s white bedspread as they flipped through issues of _Vogue_ , _Cosmopolitan_ , and _Elle_. When Betty laughed and shook her head, Veronica finally heeded Cheryl’s request for less chatting, more cardio.

 

* * *

 

He picked her up after he finished basketball practice like it had been the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it was the honeymoon stage of the relationship causing Archie and Betty to feel like they were the only two people at Riverdale High, the only two in the world, but as Veronica sipped a latte, shivering a bit in her Ted Baker lace shift, she couldn’t shake that only a few weeks ago that his grin and his hug had been reserved for her. He’d slid into the spot on the sofa next to her in the student lounge as she and Kevin discussed the preparations for the Spring dance. He offered to refill her cup, take her to the movies that weekend (as anything new starring Ryan Gosling was a must-see), split a hot fudge sundae at Pop’s, and reassure her that while ice sculptures of bulldogs and a sparkling cider fountain did sound nice, Riverdale’s students would be more than appeased with sodas and burgers. But most importantly, it was the way Archie Andrews made her feel that she was sixteen going on seventeen instead of thirty-five.

 Waiting outside for Kevin to retrieve his forgotten Chemistry book may have been a poor idea in the March weather. Even with thick black tights and a wool coat, Veronica was still cold. Perhaps colder as she watched Archie open the car door for Betty, smiling down at her as she slid into the passenger’s seat.

 “Guess who!”

 Jumping in the air in four inch stilettos was not her idea of fun, but Veronica couldn’t help herself as she felt two hands over her eyes. “You’re going to ruin my eye makeup!” She shrieked, grabbing at the rough pair of hands stifling her vision, turning around to find a smirking Reggie Mantle behind her.

 “Small price to pay, and you’ll look just fine without it,” Reggie asserted. Veronica only let go of his hands after digging her plum-colored nails into his skin in return. “Are you always this easily startled?”

 “Are you always this smelly?” Veronica retorted, wrinkling her nose as she stepped back from him. Unlike Archie, Reggie had kept his basketball practice shirt and shorts on, coat draped over his arm, shoulders still glistening with sweat.

 “Only after I’ve scored the most points in today’s scrimmage game,” Reggie flashed his even, white smile, running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t coincidental: a group of four freshmen girls stood on the other side of the courtyard, winking in Reggie’s direction. “Why, would you like to help me clean up?”

 “Gross, no!” Veronica made a face, taking a step back. “I have a feeling you’d have no interest in cleaning up if there’s a girl involved, Reggie. It would, I suppose, be more staying dirty as long as possible.”

 “Depends on the girl,” Reggie replied, waving to the four before they boarded the bus home, “But that’s not why I came to chat. I let Keller bring his social experiment to the party on Saturday if you agreed to come. Andrews and Betty won’t be there. However, vodka will be.”

 “The catalyst and answer to all of life’s problems?”

 “The catalyst and answer to all good house parties. Along with its good friends tequila and rum. But my family’s gone for the week and this place has gotten boring now that the golden boy and the princess finally admitted their undying love for one another.”

 “I don’t think it was as romantic as that,” Veronica sighed, looking away from him. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been as romantic as that. What had anything she felt, or still felt, for Archie even meant in that case. She hadn’t been the only one eyeing Archie’s car with disdain; Jughead was perched on the table of one of the picnic benches, the glow of the laptop screen illuminating his face in the overcast Friday afternoon. The shadow in the background, Veronica noticed him always watching, observing, someone who preferred to be on the outside looking in, as if the world of high school was a disease and he wanted to keep his immunity from the toxic bullshit. Perhaps it was. When they locked eyes, his gaze one of disgust towards her, Veronica turned her attention back to Reggie.

 It was too late. He’d noticed the shift in her focus.

 “The fuck are you looking at, Suicide Squad? Don’t you have Tumblr update to moan about Betty finally hooking up with a guy instead of a corpse?” Reggie shot in Jughead’s direction, straightening up to his full height of six foot three. Veronica shook her head; Reggie could turn from tolerable to terrible in the matter of seconds.

 “You used that same joke six months ago, genius. What, you can’t find new material about angst-ridden anti-heroes from the past twenty years?”

 Veronica hid her mouth from Reggie with her right hand, unable to stifle a laugh. While she hid it from the captain of the basketball team, the smirk of satisfaction on Jughead’s lips meant that it hadn’t been entirely missed.

 “Whatever. In case you haven’t figured it out, you’re not invited tomorrow. Can’t trust you not to go all Columbine on us. You’ll probably be responsible for this town’s next scandal anyway.”

 Veronica was perplexed, wondering if Reggie had really thought it was pertinent to reference one of the worst mass school shootings in the country’s history right outside of their own school. She wasn’t the only one.

 “You’re really a moron, aren’t you Mantle,” Jughead shut his laptop closed, shoving it into his pack, “You actually think I want to be there. Killing your sub-human levels of intelligence with weed isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

 “YOU PIECE OF-”

 “Let it go, Reg.” Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him away from Jughead’s direction. Once Jughead was finally out of Reggie’s sights, she released him, rubbing the palm of her hand down the side of her coat in disgust. “I’ll be there, if it’ll keep you from destroying the school’s outcasts.”

 “Great,” He regained composure, as if he hadn’t been knocked down a peg or two just a moment ago. Reggie flashed his signature smile again to her. “I’ll even make sure to shower, just for you.”

 “Yeah, you better.”

 

* * *

 

The weed was certainly going to kill more than a few brain cells tonight, at least for everyone out by the Mantle’s still-closed swimming pool. Between the joints and the hookah, it seemed the only Saturday night goal was to relax, to forget, to live. Still floating from the fruity flavored hookah she and Ginger Lopez had shared, Veronica chose to move her own party (she refused to call it a pity party) indoors when Chuck and Moose showed up with the plastic bag guaranteed to result in bad decisions. That, and she was overdressed. While many of her classmates chose jeans and a provocative top, Veronica had chosen a black and silver sequined romper with a cropped leather jacket, stilettos, and a designer bag. New York club for sure, not quite house party chic.

 Not that Reggie seemed to mind. He looked unconcerned, out of the corner of her eye as she danced with Josie McCoy and Ginger, Cheryl sipping vodka on ice as she looked on. The world’s top DJs had been replaced with a curated Spotify playlist and socialites with classmates, but it was sure to end up on the social networks just like trysts at Le Bain and 1Oak.

 “So, All Time Low was a bit of a buzzkill,” Veronica mused, leaving the others to dance to take a seat on the Mantle’s marble countertop as Reggie mixed a drink for Melody, who insisted she wanted a surprise. “You’re not planning on adding roofies to that, are you?”

 “It might surprise you, Lodge, that I’m not out here to fuck everyone with a pussy in this room.”

 “Don’t discount the other sex until you’ve tried it.” Veronica quipped, pouring herself another shot of Absolut. Reggie had sprung (or his parents had) for a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, but between her and Reggie the bottle had disappeared in less than thirty minutes at the start of the party. That was fine: champagne was for celebrating, vodka was for making the pain go away.

 “How many of those have you had at this point, Veronica?” Joaquin asked, taking Reggie’s place as he went to deliver drinks to the Pussycats. Besides Veronica, he seemed the be the only one unfazed by the entire scene. She supposed he must see worse in his school, his life in general. While he looked tough and tattooed, with faded clothes and messy hair, he held Kevin’s hand gently and playfully teased his boyfriend for his Dev Patel obsession.

 “Oh, who the hell knows,” She replied, her shot now empty with the bottle still mostly full. A year ago, the bottle would have been empty and she never would have thought to speak to Joaquin. “Not enough, and I don’t even want anymore. I get that inviting me out is supposed to cheer me up, but it’s not working. I just want-”

 “-to watch _Step Up_ or _Magic Mike_ ? Because Channing Tatum has _moves_. It’s illegal to be that good.”

 Veronica chuckled and shook her head. Classic films of every decade were her forte, but she got her fix of dance movies in with Kevin and Joaquin.

 “No...I guess, just not be here. But it’s the curse of a small town. Where do you go when you want to be alone?” She swung the heels of her stilettos against the cabinets before pushing off the counter and reaching for her jacket.

 “Did you drive?” Kevin asked her, his tone serious as Joaquin poured himself a shot of tequila. “Because if you did Ronnie, we can find a DD to take you back to the apartment…”

 “Cheryl and Ginger picked me up, but it’s not far from here. I could use the walk. I just...need to think, to decompress. I’ll be fine, Kevin. I just need time.”

 “Keep your phone on, then. If you need help, call and we’ll find a way.”

 “Thanks.”

 Besides the two of them, no one seemed to notice Veronica slip away. She was used to her phone blowing up with missed texts, DMs, and calls when she left a party unannounced, when she just needed time to think and be alone, but her cell stayed quiet as well as the rest of the suburban streets that made up the majority of Riverdale. Reggie lived close to the downtown area, sprawling off a real small town Main Street to the main shopping and business centers.

 But not close enough. While her Valentino pumps were in good shape, Veronica’s toes weren’t. Gone was the land of taxis and Uber. In Riverdale, you either had a car or you walked. And she, particularly the two smallest toes on her left foot, needed a break. She’d run into Betty and Archie at Pop’s for sure, and she needed something as far away from romance as she could possibly get.

 The answer hit her with a fanfare of bright lights. The Bijou had picked up some business since the close of the Twilight Drive-In months ago, and to accommodate they’d chosen to air their Midnight Classics series. Depending on the show, it would either attract couples like flies to honey, or be a guaranteed spot for silence. Alfred Hitchcock’s _Psycho_ would be the latter. And despite that a screen favorite and all-around life goal, Grace Kelly, was not the scream queen, Veronica found herself buying a single ticket.

 “Are you sure no one’s with you, miss?” The ticket agent raised a brow, looking up and down at her shivering legs teetering on beautiful shoes. “This one’s a real scary one. You’ll be okay?”

 “I wouldn’t harm a fly, sir, but I’m not as delicate as I look.” Veronica replied, causing the man to chuckle before handing her the ticket. She pushed through the throngs of people hoping to get their last popcorn refill for the night to the last screen at the end of the hallway. It was the smallest, there to appease anyone tired of the blockbusters dominating the rest of the theater. It wasn’t as empty as she’d hoped. There were a few odd older couples, the loners, and to her irritation, half a dozen gang members sprawled over the back row, her preferred seat. She hadn’t tried to push her way in either, but as she walked briskly past she didn’t go unnoticed.

 “Mmmm, baby, what are you doing here all alone? Need a date?”

 “Would rather have you in the shower scene, sweetheart, with those tits and legs.”

 Veronica pulled her leather jacket tighter around her, in an attempt to hide the exposed cleavage from the deep neckline on her romper. She shut her eyes, shuddering in disgust and was met by a wolf whistle from the peanut gallery, followed by the sounds of moans and sloppy kisses.

 “Just FUCK OFF you filthy perverts!”

 Six shocked stares followed her to her seat in the middle of the theater. As she slid into the chair, the jeers continued. She forced herself to keep her attention to the string of commercials on the screen until it suddenly stopped.

 “You chose to come here instead of Reggie Mantle’s sex-infused shindig? Might be a bigger twist ending than the reveal of Norman Bates’ mother.”

 Veronica hadn’t noticed Jughead take the seat to the right of her. He shot a nasty look to the back of the theater before nursing the giant tub of popcorn on his lap. He looked the way Veronica usually found him when she was around: grumpy.

 “Oh, sorry,” He continued, sarcasm rising with every word, “did I spoil it for you? Can’t imagine you like anything beyond Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. That’s pretty much what privileged girls like, isn’t it?”

 “Marilyn’s talent was centered around her chest, so don’t lump me in with the star of ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President’,” Veronica snapped. Drinking had been on the list of things to do to heal her broken heart, but defending her choice in classic Hollywood actresses had not. “Audrey is always a worthy idol, but she’s up there with Grace Kelly and Sophia Loren.”

 “Too bad you’ll have to settle for Janet Leigh, or will you do the rich girl thing and throw a tantrum until the theater plays a movie with a worthy heroine?”

 “Not tonight,” Veronica leaned back in her seat. While she looked like she didn’t belong there, it’s where she wanted to be at that exact moment: watching the demise of Marion Crane and the insanity of Norman Bates. As she watched a commercial for a new crime drama, she noticed him close his eyes as the actress playing the female detective lead appeared: blonde, pretty, and with a ponytail. Veronica could tell there were two broken hearts in the Midnight Classics screening that week. “But you never know. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?”

 As she’d hoped, Jughead sat straight in his seat, setting his popcorn to the side (away from her, she noticed).

 “Yes. Sometimes just one time can be enough.”

 “Good, so now that we’re done proving my Hitchcock street cred for the evening, am I allowed to watch a cinematic masterpiece?”

 “Yes,” He shifted in his seat, reaching for his popcorn. Jughead began chowing down again, pausing so often to wipe butter-coated hands on his flannel shirt. “But you can’t have any of my popcorn.”

 “Fine.”

 “Still, I’m not sure what’s more surprising: the fact you’ve even seen this movie before, or the fact you told a bunch of Southside Serpents to fuck themselves.”

 “I’d say that you shouldn’t forget the ‘bitch’ part of ‘formerly rich bitch’. They want to go two for two in ruining the classics for me and I won’t stand for that,” She smiled. For the meantime, there was a balance between the spoiled heiress everyone expected and the normal girl she wanted to be, watching an old movie on a Saturday night with an unlikely acquaintance who refused to share the popcorn.

 “Noted,” He grinned, settling back into his seat.

As the theater grew dark in anticipation for Marion Crane to steal her $40,000, Veronica laughed quietly about nothing in particular, and as she looked to her right, so did he.


	2. Inside Out

No matter what Fred Andrews insisted, he couldn’t stay there. Two things about Archie’s room felt painfully familiar: the DC Comics posters lining his bedroom walls, a faint reminder of Saturday evenings past of two friends pouring over new issues of _Justice League_ , and sweet perfume, the signature scent of Betty Cooper that mingled throughout the room for the past week.

Both Archie and his dad meant well, both aware the dynamic between two best friends had changed in a way not entirely unexpected, but Jughead wasn’t about to third wheel dates at Pop’s and repeat viewings of 90s teen movies with Archie and Betty. The feeling of Archie Andrews present in a relationship where he wasn’t wanted hadn’t been a new development: for the afternoons and weekends spent in Betty’s room (through the window, as per usual. Alice Cooper despised everyone, it seemed), they’d muse over the murder of Jason Blossom, watch television, and occasionally study, the smiling faces of Archie and Betty in numerous framed photographs made him feel like they, no - he -, was constantly being watched, judged. In the supposedly wholesome small town of Riverdale, made up of Friday football games and a real diner near main street, the sweet, wholesome overachiever was intended for the star of the football team.

It’s what had kept the notion of small town America alive. And while the death of Jason Blossom and the subsequent reveal of his murderer made Riverdale out to be much more exciting than previously thought, some things weren’t able to evolve as quickly. Like Betty’s heart.

With Mr. Andrews working late and Archie and Betty, no doubt, sharing a vanilla milkshake at Pop’s, no one noticed that Jughead had packed up his things and left soon after dark. As a writer, the ability to slip around unnoticed for the most part was a useful skill. It enabled the ability to observe without direct involvement in how a situation unfolded. As a person, it made Saturday night in Riverdale lonely. The Twilight was over and he would rather be forced to watch reality television than spend his time at a Reggie Mantle party. Not like he was invited, or even wanted there.

He’d ended up at The Bijou shortly after he’d been kicked out of the local pizza restaurant. In times of trouble, some people lost their appetite. Jughead couldn’t relate to those people: he’d polished off a large pepperoni and sausage pizza before settling into his preferred section of the theater with the smallest screen. He’d sprung for a large popcorn too, though he preferred savoring the artificial buttery treat as opposed to what his father’s friends used it for: throwing it at the people seeing a movie alone on a Saturday night. Without the Twilight to call home and picnic benches to call a living room, the Serpents chose the cheap classic feature screenings to socialize. He kept out of their line of fire (not that they’d dare heckle him anyway) by sitting in the top right, waiting for the lights to go dim.

“Just FUCK OFF you filthy perverts!”

For the first time, someone had dared to snap back, and it hadn’t been a jock attempting to look tough or a mother shielding her children: it was an overdressed, overly angry Veronica Lodge. While she was spoiled, vapid, and an unwelcome addition to Riverdale, she did not deserve to be harassed at a midnight movie. Even if she likely had her own giant flatscreen to watch it on.

As soon as he’d traded his spot in the shadows for a seat beside her, he was both relieved and regretted by his choice: relieved, as the Serpents shut up as soon as he’d moved, and regret that he’d now have to spend the destruction of Anthony Perkins’ career with Veronica Lodge. Not that she’d know anything about classic horror, the Audrey Hepburn and Cate Blanchett fan that she was. He’d prove it.

Except he couldn’t. As soon as he began to get comfortable in his film knowledge over hers, she fired back. Combined with a preview with an actress who looked like Betty to a disturbing degree, it made for an awkward Saturday night. Only being around the Andrews house to witness Archie and Betty’s saccharine attempt at a first date would have been worse.

To Veronica’s credit, at least she didn’t take any of his popcorn.

“It was almost perfect,” She began, striding through the theater lobby. The back row Serpents had left the theater first, and he’d held back until there was no one to prove that Veronica Lodge and Jughead Jones had willingly seen a movie together and hadn’t murdered one another halfway through. “Except for the explanation from the psychiatrist. I think if it was made circa now, that scene with the subpar acting would have been cut and instead it would just segway into the final thoughts of Norman Bates.”

“It’s probable that audiences in the sixties might not have connected the dots,” He replied, choosing to walk behind her as opposed to next to her. Walking next to Veronica would have meant that seeing a movie together was intentional. “Considering the marketing campaign Hitchcock implemented for the film, I’d say he wanted to make sure the audience got their money’s worth.”

“Marketing campaign?”

“Hitchcock instructed theaters to only show _Psycho_ in its entirety. If you were late for a showing, you had to wait for the next one. To preserve the secrecy of the plot twists, most likely.”

“Not surprising, killing off your heroine halfway in with violins and chocolate syrup,” She replied, teeth chattering and legs shivering as they left the theater lobby for a dimly lit Main Street. “Though as classic as that scene is, I enjoy Arbogast’s death even more.”

Jughead had worked at the Twilight, unofficially, for three consecutive Halloween seasons before it closed, and he’d yet to hear anyone comment about anything than Janet Leigh’s shower scene and the reveal of Mrs. Bates. “That’s actually my favorite scene. The camera work just gives it a dreamlike feel, and you’re still trying to figure out how the mother is factoring into the mystery.”

“It’s the first time I felt sick during that film. Chocolate blood on a shower curtain didn’t disturb me, but the difficulty in figuring out who actually killed him at that point while showing his fall was upsetting.”

They’d walked several blocks before he’d realized that he’d moved to walk beside her. And while she was most likely walking in the direction of home, he didn’t have a similar refuge.

“So why did you blow off a party to see a movie by yourself?”

 “Why did you?”

“Because watching half the school get drunk, smoke, and fondle each other is both boring and disgusting.”

“Well, there you go then.”

 He started to remind her of the fact that Reggie had explicitly not invited him, but thought better of it. His life in general could be defined as dreary and there was no point in adding more fuel to the fire.

 “If you’re supposed to be there, I guess it beats being harassed by a bunch of thugs.”

 “You’ve never been dumped before, have you Jughead?”

For once, Veronica’s voice was devoid of sarcasm and yet her words still stung. Even if she hadn’t intended to remind him of his life inexperience, that she was more proficient than he was in anything that really mattered, she’d done it.

 “Not until, well, you know,” He grudgingly accepted defeat, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets in defeat. Advice from Veronica Lodge would be the nail in the proverbial coffin of his dating life.

 “It’s that sometimes you just want to be alone, watching one gruesome death after another, instead of having everyone around you force you into a state of self-confidence you have no interest or ability to maintain,” She explained, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. “But it’s my version of a pity party, I guess. I don’t have to think about being someone’s backup option if I’m watching Norman Bates’ killing spree.”

 Her choice to wear minimal clothing in forty degree weather was incomprehensible to him, but her preference for solitude was simple to fathom. He’d spent his day hiding in the Andrews’ claustrophobic home office for two reasons: Archie wouldn’t set foot into a room that so closely resembled school on a Saturday, and it was the shortest walk to the kitchen.

 “Jughead Jones, I think you just walked me home.”

The building was one of the few on the block of downtown Riverdale that had been renovated to maintain its original opulence instead of being lost to Main Street’s decay. With a doorman, bright white paint, and art-deco street numbers, it was a palace amongst the gray, faded condominiums from the seventies. The building, like Veronica Lodge, did not belong in Riverdale.

 “Not like it was intentional,” He retorted. When Betty had gotten the better of him, he took her jokes in stride. Veronica’s sly grin evoked the opposite. “I hope you’re not expecting a goodnight kiss, or you’ll be disappointed.”

 “Last I checked, we live in Riverdale, not _The Twilight Zone_ ,” She shot back, a little too quickly before leaving him behind.

 

* * *

 

“Where have you been? You didn’t come home all weekend. Dad and I were worried.”

 He’d set up one end of a couch in the student lounge into a makeshift office: printed drafts marked up with red pen, coffee in the largest cup he could find, and a well-intentioned friend who felt compelled to interrupt his editing process. His life had been run through a metaphorical wood chipper, cut away to where he couldn’t recognize it anymore in its current form with all the restless nights and intrusive thoughts to go with it. There was no reason his art shouldn’t suffer too.

“I’m embodying the life of a writer: experiencing an existential crisis fueled by coffee and broken dreams,” Jughead replied, not bothering to look up from the laptop screen.

 Archie carried two things: his guitar and a peace offering, the latter he set beside Jughead’s stack of papers. The paper plate was piled high with hot fries, the scent of deep fried oil and salt a painful reminder that Jughead had skipped breakfast that morning, as he’d done for the past week. He swallowed, the sensation of thick potato slices with perfectly crunchy exteriors coupled with a warm, starchy center was enough to forget that he was supposed to be furious at the indecisive behavior of his best friend.

 “You know me too well.”

 “I know that when you’re frustrated, there are two things that turn you back into Bruce Banner: burgers and fries.”

 “So where’s the other half of the equation?”

 “Beazley’s serving chicken fingers today.”

 Jughead grimaced. While the school couldn’t ruin much with a deep fryer, the idea of chicken fingers reminded him of a fateful day the previous year when Archie had bitten into a piece of fried chicken still pink inside. “Fair point. Don’t think that this leaves you off the hook, though.”

 Archie took the seat beside him on the couch. He hadn’t spent this much time not talking to his best friend since last summer, when for the first time, a woman had become more important than their friendship. In the span of less than a year, the same phenomenon had happened twice. As he shut his laptop closed, Jughead hoped it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence.

 “Fine. As you told me earlier this year, I owe you many burgers,” Archie swiped a few fries from the plate. When they’d disagreed over the strongest member of The Avengers or what Michael Bay movie to watch, they’d used a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. to resolve their problems. But at school with no Nintendo Wii, Jughead was forced to talk with his best friend over the rift between them.

 “Pop’s has generous hours. I’m sure between practice, music,” He hesitated, the last priority in Archie’s list was difficult to swallow, “-and dates with Betty, we’ll figure something out. Wednesdays would be a start, comics and milkshakes should be a tradition not lost to the raging hormones of Archie Andrews.”

 “I agree,” Archie smiled, taking a few more fries before Jughead moved the plate closer to his laptop and away from his best friend, “And because I owe you so many burgers and shakes, the food will be on me this week.”

 “Comics too? Superman’s confronting the Timeless Army this week. And there’s a new issue of Slott’s run on Amazing Spider-Man.”

 “You’re enjoying milking this for all its worth, aren’t you?”

 Jughead smiled and shook his head, leaning back against the couch. “Arch, every terrible teen movie would tell me that this is the time I should be throwing punches in return for stealing my girlfriend. But I’d rather just have my best friend back and have my life return to as close to normal as it’ll get in Riverdale.”

 Archie paused. While growing up as a Jones had prepared Jughead to conceal how he really felt, Archie’s upbringing had entailed wearing his heart on his sleeve. “Are you going to be okay?”

 “Hugging it out like douches in the student lounge isn’t exactly the way to maintain your part-jock, part-music heartthrob status, Arch.”

 “No, I mean your living situation,” Archie lowered his voice. The nature of Jughead’s home life was privy only to Archie, Archie’s father, and Betty, which was how Jughead preferred to keep it. “Look, I get that it’s not easy being at my place, but you can’t live in the janitor’s closet. You hate asking for help, but it might be worth it to ask Veronica if there’s space at her place. Or if you want, I can talk to Reggie. His family’s away a lot.”

 “Wow, I’m not sure which option is worse: living with Riverdale’s Holly Golightly or living with Riverdale’s Biff Tannen.”

 Archie raised an eyebrow. “So, Back to the Future I get, but who’s the girl Jug?”

 Jughead wondered if Archie had even dated Veronica Lodge at all.

 

* * *

 

Popcorn had to be optional the following week. While living with the Andrews’, Jughead had the blessing of a functional washer and dryer that didn’t require coins to operate and hot meals every day. But after deciding to crawl into school windows after everyone had gone in order to find a safe place to sleep, any money he had saved from the Twilight had been regulated to the laundromat and the vending machines.

 Jughead gritted his teeth as he sunk lower into the stained, faded red plush seats at The Bijou. It was difficult not to be bitter about the whole ordeal, things his classmates took for granted was what he relied on for survival. Archie and Betty could go to Pop’s for a burger and milkshake and think so little of the money spent, when it had been nearly two weeks since he’d enjoyed a bacon double cheeseburger, ketchup and mustard on the side. The scent of fresh buttered popcorn didn’t help. Jughead figured his father had asked some of his friends to stake out the Saturday night classics weekly now, to bully his son into coming home where he, in FP’s eyes, belonged.

“Is this seat taken?”

Why Veronica had even bothered to come back to a theater where she’d been harassed, Jughead had no clue. But she was carrying the largest size tub of popcorn that The Bijou sold, including extra pumps of butter. As grating as she was on his nerves, popcorn was popcorn.

“It is now, if you plan on sharing that popcorn.”

“Ooh, well, that’s a problem, as I was planning on eating this entire tub of popcorn by myself!” She grinned, holding it against her chest to protect the popcorn from prying hands, “Vincent Price whips me into a culinary frenzy every time, so I’ll need reinforcements.”

His face must have been formed into a look of either sadness or shock, as she burst out laughing before settling down in the seat beside him, draping her coat over the back. She at least looked a bit more practical to see a Saturday night movie. Jughead had been skeptical that Veronica Lodge even owned a pair of jeans, but tonight she’d proved him wrong. The button down shirt and scarf around her neck made her look much more modest than how she presented herself at school and meals at Pop’s. The more instances he was forced to cross paths with Veronica, the more confusing she became. He didn’t like it.

 

“I’m kidding, just kidding! Of course you can have some. I figured I might as well offer something in exchange for those goons not bothering me. It’s 2017 and I can’t see a movie alone without getting harassed.”

 

“So why didn’t you bring a friend? I’m pretty certain you have those.”

“Don’t make me feel worse about my social life, or lack thereof right now,” Veronica groaned, reaching for a handful of popcorn, “Let’s see: Kevin’s with Joaquin, Josie’s a few towns over performing with the Pussycats, Cheryl finds my preference for classic movies lame, and Betty-”

“Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to explain that one.” Jughead supposed that even the ice princess of Riverdale must be suffering from a recent thaw, as her fist tightened around the popcorn kernels when she mentioned her best friend. If life was anything like a teen movie, he figured that the change in Archie’s affections would have been the end of Betty and Veronica’s friendship, culminating in a public shouting match in the middle of school. Instead, Riverdale High’s newest couple was inseparable and B & V, as he preferred to call them, were polite but brief in their conversations during the classes he shared with them.

“Besides,” She continued, licking the liquid butter off of her manicured fingertips, “We’re in the same boat. Both of us are jilted by our closest friends and despite all of the Riverdale hot spots to indulge in on a Saturday night, we both would rather be here, watching _House On Haunted Hill_ because William Castle proved in 1959 that it didn’t take complicated makeup or computer graphics to create effective horror.”

“Riverdale isn’t New York City, the nightlife here consists of high school sports,” Jughead scoffed. He could feel the chill of her sarcasm in how small, both in size and in mind, that Riverdale tried to maintain until last summer. It _was_ small, but it was predictable, safe, and his home. “You have three choices if you don’t have a car: Pop’s, parties, or movies. If you want to waste money binge drinking in an overpriced nightclub, you can go home.”

“I can’t go back to New York,” Veronica said quietly, a sharp change from her arrogant tone as she passed the popcorn bucket to him, “And while you may think the only things I care about are superficial luxuries, I’d appreciate it if you took your condescending tone down a notch.”

“Fine, as it takes a Riverdale institution to shut down to get anyone in our school interested in a movie made before 1975,” He’d never seen her confidence waver. Taking on Chuck Clayton in front of the entire school, standing up to Cheryl Blossom on both her own behalf and her friends, and yelling at most of the Southside Serpents seemed to have little effect on Veronica, but the suggestion that she had no place in Riverdale caused her shoulders to slump and chin to fall. She was already rather short, especially next to Betty or Archie, but in the midst of his criticisms she looked even smaller. “Why _House on Haunted Hill_ then? Both Castle and Price have a library of work of choose from.”

“Honestly?” She straightened, clearly pleased that he’d changed the subject.

 “Yeah. I screened this during ninth grade for the Halloween season at the Twilight and compared to, say, _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ , it had a low turnout. So finding someone willing to pay for a ticket to see it is pretty rare.”

 “It makes me laugh. I first saw this on TV, late at night when I was supposed to be asleep, and the witch on wheels terrified me when I was nine. Now, I laugh through the entire thing. Because really, backing up into a vat of acid is hilarious.”

 “Well, if it’s any consolation, your taste in horror movies doesn’t completely suck. But what’s your take on contemporary horror?”

 “There’s a few gems here and there, some of which have been great during the past few weeks,” Veronica continued, ignoring a car commercial on the screen as they waited for previews. “As you may imagine, the last thing I want to watch right now is a romantic comedy or drama. So I’m happy to watch Vincent Price alongside _The Babadook_ and _It Follows_. But I have a soft spot for _Wait Until Dark_.”

 “Devoted to Audrey, then,” Jughead mused. It was a bit stereotypical, the rich girl from Manhattan in awe of Audrey Hepburn, but she could have chosen worse. Beyond his best friend and ex-girlfriend, he never felt at ease spending time with anyone. Books and movies filled his life with predictable characters, people who made sense in the fictitious worlds they lived in. In contrast to Riverdale, where he couldn’t rely on anyone with any real certainty anymore.

 “Even beyond her films, she’s an inspiration,” Veronica smiled, reaching for more popcorn, “So, if we’re going to keep meeting like this, why not intentionally see _Scream_ next week?”

 Jughead choked on his popcorn, coughing violently at her suggestion. “Are you attempting to ask me out?”

 Her smile disappeared into an exasperated sigh, tucking a bit of her dark hair behind her ear. “I’d like to think that a boy and a girl can see a movie together as friends without any romantic implication behind it. Do you have somewhere else you have to be next Saturday? Devouring a pile of hamburgers, perhaps?”

 He could only imagine that sort of bliss, a stack of burgers with no worries about how he was going to afford it and who he’d run into while enjoying his favorite pastime. He breathed deeply, the idea of voluntarily spending an evening alone with Veronica being so ludicrous that his body rebelled against the notion. “Fine, I don’t,” He snapped, “I was planning on being here as it’s the only place I can enjoy a movie in peace.”

 “Well, not anymore. I’ll be joining you,” She asserted, rubbing her hands together, “I fully expect you to recite the rules to survive a horror movie. Randy’s the most underrated character, after all.”

He wanted to protest, but the lights grew dim and there was nothing more he could say. While they laughed and feigned shock at the right scenes, the true terror for Jughead was the fact that he would willingly spend time with someone he only tolerated at best, despised at worst. Veronica was supposed to be everything he despised: excessive wealth, haughty attitude, and little compassion for others. But as he ventured back to Riverdale High after the movie, climbing through the window of the offices of the Blue and Gold before seeking out the janitor’s closet he now called home, he wondered if Veronica Lodge was more than the ice princess she worked so hard to emulate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://somethingjust-likethis.tumblr.com). 
> 
> I love reading your comments and try to answer as many of them as I can!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://somethingjust-likethis.tumblr.com).


End file.
